Just a Ride
by FireOnHigh
Summary: "I've never been in control of my life. I recognized that long ago, and I thought I was at peace with it. Guess not." Short piece from Sam's POV reflecting on his life and how others have always had control over who he was. Tagged to 9x22 'Stairway to Heaven'.


_Author's Note: Just a short piece from Sam's point of view about how his life has never been his own. Inspired by a couple of Tumblr posts I've seen circulating. Oh yeah- I don't own Supernatural or the Winchesters._

I've never been in control of my life. I recognized that long ago, and I thought I was at peace with it. Guess not.

At first, it was Dad calling the shots for me. Clean the weapons. Do the research for this case I'm working. Pack up your things because we're moving to another town.

Well, really, Azazel was the first one to try and run (or ruin) my life. I was just an infant when he put the fucking demon blood in my mouth, took the first steps into moulding me into the 'Boy King of Hell' or whatever his grand plan was. That led to Dad turning me and Dean into child soldiers with one purpose- hunting down the _thing_ that killed Mom.

You know what? I don't remember her. I don't have any of the comforting memories that I'm sure Dad and Dean had of her. They never shared them willingly with me, either. Dad would never talk about her unless he was drunk to the point of being barely coherent. That man, who Dean worshipped and I learned to fear, would cry silently, clutching at a picture of a beautiful, kind-eyed blonde woman I didn't recognize, whose voice I couldn't recall. "I'm sorry, Mary," he'd whisper. "I'm so sorry. I'm doing my best to raise the boys…but I need you. I miss you."

Mom was the driving force for my brother's and father's lives, but I didn't have that. I only had them to direct my life. Maybe that's why I knew I wanted out of the family business when I was in elementary school- I had no personal tie to hunting like they did. Sure, saving people is great. But I could save innocent lives as a lawyer too. I didn't have to go through life killing; at least I didn't think I did, back when I was a much younger and more naïve man.

Then there was Dean. As soon as he was deemed old enough to be left alone with me in hotel rooms- let's be honest; no eight year old should be forced to babysit his much younger brother for days or weeks at a time with barely enough money to keep either of them fed- he began to order me around too. Turn off the television. Don't be so noisy, cos the hotel manager will drop by to see what's wrong.

It got worse when he began to go on hunts with Dad, and then when he got his own car… Needless to say, I learned real quick not to get mud on the floormats or bang my backpack against the shiny paint job. She's my car. No, you can't drive her. Hands off the window. Only I get to work on her. Ride in the back so my latest girlfriend can sit by me.

College was the only genuine freedom I ever had. Sure, I had classes and eventually a couple of jobs. But no one was there to order me to wake up, get dressed, and be out the door in five minutes _or else_. I could leave my room whenever I wanted, stay out as late as I wanted. I could spend a little spare cash on something I didn't strictly need, without worrying that I had used up the last of our food or rent money. I got used to staying in one place, revelled in the triviality of having my own space that I got to call home for more than a few days at a time.

But I never forgot the training that had been instilled in me. I had a knife under my pillow for the first couple of years; I scared the shit out of my roommate a time or two when he came in real late. I got up to check the salt lines several times a night. When I got my first apartment, I put a Devil's Trap under the welcome mat just inside the front door.

And Jess…sweet, sympathetic Jess. She seemed to understand that I needed room, that I had a deep hatred for being ordered to do anything. She gave me all of the space I needed, and I was there for me when I wanted her. She loved me, and I haven't had anything like that since.

Everything came crashing down the night Dean broke into our apartment. The little safe space I'd built for myself was compromised.

I got pulled back into the family business. I comforted myself by saying it was only for the weekend; I kept repeating that I'd be back with Jess in a couple of days. My own personal mantra to help me readjust to taking orders, being under someone else's control. Just gotta find Dad and then get to my interview. I'm going to become a great lawyer and save lots of people, just like Dean does, only with less bloodshed and collateral damage.

Maybe I'm cursed. Maybe the name "Winchester" is cursed. None of us have ever been able to find true, pure happiness and then hang onto it for any length of time. It crumbles and slips through our fingers like so much sand through an hourglass. Maybe it's because we hold on too tight to what we find, crushing the life out of every good thing we get.

The time in my life where I was drinking demon blood was one of the darkest periods I've gone ever through, and that's saying a lot, given the life I've lived. Yet again, I found myself out of control- Ruby used me to kill Lilith and raise Lucifer. She got me addicted. I'm not saying that I wasn't at fault; on the contrary, it was all my fault. I was broken and vulnerable after Dean got sent to Hell for _me_, and I was too trusting. I was waiting for a kind face to show up, and comfort me. Keep me from doing something I'd really regret.

I got irrationally, stupidly excited when I found out Angels existed. I thought that they'd be on our side, be willing to help us fight. I've never been so wrong. In their eyes, I was a fucking _abomination_, all because I had evil running through my veins that I couldn't eradicate. They used Dean and I. My brother was supposed to be the vessel for their commander, that asshole Michael. And me, my dirty, worthless, broken self- I was destined to be used by Lucifer.

He took away my ability to die and stay dead, out of his reach. God knows I tried several times to remove myself from the picture so the big showdown couldn't take place. Pick a hemisphere, Dean said. I'd tried to choose the afterlife. Heaven or Hell. That could technically be seen as choosing a hemisphere, I suppose, if you go by the standard 'heaven is above earth and hell is below' rhetoric. The bastard brought me back each time, told me I couldn't escape him that easily.

When I jumped into the Cage with Lucifer, I thought I knew what I was doing. I was saving the world, even at the cost of my own soul. The Devil had controlled me on a terrifyingly intimate level, using my body to hurt my brother, and kill Bobby and Cas. I swore I'd never go back there. I was fine with taking orders; I'd gotten used to the idea of always being second in command to someone, be it Dad or Dean. But my body is my own. My private sanctuary that no one could breach without verbally expressed consent.

The cruellest thing Dean ever did to me was to let that Angel into my body. Gadreel erased my memories, relegated me to the back corner of my mind, and killed someone I saw as a member of my limited family with _my_ hands. Dean let me become, for all intents and purposes, a puppet for a celestial being with conflicted loyalties. He took away the only thing I've ever had- the ability to die and finally be at peace. Finally be free of other's expectations and orders.

But I still can't hate him, no matter how much it may seem that I do. He's my brother, and I'm beginning to understand why he did what he did, making that deal. He's not like me; he can't go on alone. I've moved on from hunting twice now- with Jess, and then Amelia, though that was starting to fall apart in front of my eyes before Dean even came back from Purgatory.

Dean managed to get past his training one, after I jumped into the Cage with Lucifer and Michael. He'd built a nice life with Lisa and Ben…then I had to come along and fuck everything up. Good old soulless me…there's another thing I had no control over. I didn't ask for my soul to be separated from my body. I never wanted to be without a conscious, to allow my brother, my only family, to be turned into a vampire just so I could find the nest.

_This is a dictatorship…_

Well, Dean, here's a news flash for you- my life has always been a dictatorship. This is just the first time that you acknowledged it and labelled it for what it is. It's not my life, never has been.

_Final note: Please leave a review and tell me what you thought: good, bad, indifferent. Feel free to point out any errors I may have made, as I am unfortunately without a beta. _


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